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Updated: May 4, 2025
The Seraph's eyes flashed on him with a light like a lion's, and his right hand clinched hard. "By my life! If you say that word again you shall be flung in the street like the cur you are, let me pay what I will for it! Cecil, why don't you speak?" Bertie had not moved; not a breath escaped his lips.
And oh! to have companionship with a seraph one must know a seraph's bliss, and was not young Tom to be envied?
What he felt, however, did not escape him by the slightest sign. "As a matter of course you deny it!" he said, with a polite wave of his hand. "Quite right; you are not required to criminate yourself. I wish sincerely we were not compelled to criminate you." The Seraph's grand, rolling voice broke in; he had stood chafing, chained, panting in agonies of passion and of misery.
His own positive and earthly nature attained, for the first time, and as if for its own punishment, the comprehension of that loftier and more ethereal visitant from the heavens, who had once looked with a seraph's smile through the prison-bars of his iron life; that celestial refinement of affection, that exuberance of feeling which warms into such varieties of beautiful idea, under the breath of the earth-beautifier, Imagination, all from which, when it was all his own, he had turned half weary and impatient, and termed the exaggerations of a visionary romance, now that the world had lost them evermore, he interpreted aright as truths.
The angel's floating pomp, the seraph's glowing grace; and he too, instead of that gravity and depth of tone which might seem most accordant to his subjects, treats them with a lightness of pencil that is not far removed from flimsiness.
In the Grand Stand the Seraph's eyes strained after the Scarlet and White, and he muttered in his mustaches, "Ye gods, what's up! The world's coming to an end! Beauty's turned cautious!"
The Seraph's grand wrath poured out fulminations against the wicked-doer whosoever he was, or wheresoever he lurked; and threatened, with a vengeance that would be no empty words, the direst chastisement of the "Club," of which both his father and himself were stewards, upon the unknown criminal. The Austrian and French nobles, while winners by the event, were scarce in less angered excitement.
"Pedant!" murmured Stephane, turning his head, then adding with animation: "It is just because I respect religion that I do not like to see it burlesqued and parodied. Let a true angel appear and I am ready to render him homage; but I am enraged when I see great seraph's wings tied with white strings to the shoulders of wicked, boorish, little thieves, liars, cowards, slaves, and rascals.
The man had more than his share of that peculiar susceptibility which is one of the characteristics of his countrymen susceptibility to immediate impulse susceptibility to fleeting impressions. It was a key to many mysteries in his character when he owned his subjection to the influence of music, and in music recognised not the seraph's harp, but the siren's song.
Hear that, Curzon minimus?" he shouted, tweaking The Seraph's ear. "I say," said Angel, "you let him alone!" And I ran down the steps. The boy stared. "Don't you keep him in order?" he asked. "Rather," replied Angel, "but I don't hurt him for nothing." "I have two young brothers," said the boy, "and I hurt them for next to nothing. Licks 'em into shape."
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